'It's a leap of faith'

Jonathan Mills was a shock choice as the new director of the Edinburgh international festival. In his first interview, the Australian tells Charlotte Higgins why being £1m in debt won't stop him springing a few surprises

Jonathan Mills has been officially doing one of the most high-powered jobs in the arts, anywhere in the world, for a week. But the new director of the Edinburgh international festival doesn't look the part quite yet. Maybe it's something to do with the louche, midnight-blue sheepskin coat that gives him a Beardsley-esque air; maybe because his scruffy-bohemia look is such a contrast to his predecessor Brian McMaster's grave suits; maybe it is because his office hasn't even got round to giving the poor guy a mobile phone.

They should hurry up. Mills must, supposedly, announce his first festival programme in March. Even allowing for some easing-in time after he was appointed in February (when, in any case, he was still employed as an academic at the University of Melbourne), he now has an insanely short time to put together a festival. On top of that, he has inherited a £1m debt on an annual budget of £7.5m; rumours abound that this alone sent some candidates for the job fleeing.

Anyway, the fact is that instead of appointing someone well known, such as Graham Sheffield, the Barbican's artistic director, the Edinburgh selection board chose Mills, a 43-year-old Australian - who, it is fair to say, is unknown in this country except as a composer. Even then, only a select few contemporary opera buffs saw his chamber works The Ghost Wife and Eternity Man when they were staged in London and Suffolk in 2002 and 2003. He does have some festival experience: artistic director of the Melbourne festival from 2000-01 - but that's not exactly Salzburg. So he was a shock choice. Shortly after his appointment, the columnist and provocateur Norman Lebrecht called him a "minnow" in print, publicly articulating what many insiders were saying in private.

"Well, the person who was most surprised about my getting the job was me," Mills says, over a vegetarian lunch near his Edinburgh office. His nothing-to-lose approach may have helped him win the prize, he thinks, although he hesitated before accepting, partly because he has very elderly parents in Australia.

Mills admits that taking on the financial situation took "a leap of faith. It is a huge debt on one level. But is there not going to be an Edinburgh festival because of this debt? No. I am not foolhardy or reckless, but if I was serious about being the festival director, then the debt didn't arise as an issue. The government has on occasion shut down hospitals and schools. But not festivals."

In practical terms, he says that he is seeking "transitional money from a range of people", though he won't say who - presumably the Scottish Executive, Arts Council or Edinburgh City Council. It will result in fewer original commissions in next year's festival than he would like, because "commissioning is always more expensive". In any case, there isn't time to commission much for next year. But the problem is, if you programme by "shopping" for pre-existing work, you can end up creating a festival a bit like a bland international hotel - it looks just like everyone else's except that it's in a different city. "It's important to maintain the uniqueness of the programme," Mills acknowledges. "Because Brian [McMaster] was so focused on certain artists and performance practices, I can programme certain artists and they will be a novelty."

Mills, a week in, is not about to unveil specific plans for next year's festival, but there are hints. It is not going to be a revolution, but rather a process of "adding to what is there, evolving things and adding new strands". He has already said that he wants to make visual art part of the festival. There are rumours of a possible new and unexpected venue, though he says he is extremely happy with the festival's performance spaces, especially the Usher Hall, Festival Theatre and the Queens Hall. "They may be a bit creaky, and there's no doubt some need improvements to their infrastructure. They have atmospheres like a favourite, old, well-loved cardigan. But they sound good, which is the important thing. I come from a place where everything is new - there may be a glitzy space, but the acoustic might be wrong."

Mills acknowledges he is a "music man" first and foremost, and says that the best things he saw at Edinburgh this August were two Queen's Hall recitals, by pianist Christian Zacharias and bass-baritone Robert Holl - niche choices, perhaps, when the rest of Edinburgh was raving about Gregory Burke's Black Watch and Anthony Neilson's Realism. His opera-writing, though, has given him practical experience in the theatre, he points out. I ask him what he has enjoyed recently, and he is reluctant to name anything, fearful, he says, of giving too much away about nascent festival plans. But he praises Dublin's Gate and its recent Beckett and Pinter festivals.

McMaster was also a "music man", but Mills says his taste is wider: "If Brian's taste went from around 1750 to the early 20th century, mine ranges from 1250 to today." It seems clear that there will be more early music in Mills's festival than McMaster's. With his predecessor, however, he shares a taste for exploring a single composer or set of works. He loved the complete Beethoven symphonies conducted by Charles Mackerras this year, and he admires the notion of the festival directed by John Drummond in 1983, when the entire programme centred on the cultural life of Vienna in 1900. "If the festival is to continue to be strong, it must come up with this kind of artistic challenge for itself," Mills says.

Will the festival be a projection of his personal taste? To an extent it's inevitable, he says, but he also tells a story about a friend of the family, a wine judge who dislikes whites. "It can't mean you don't judge the white wine, or the Sauternes; you must be impartial and detached about that. You are making public choices."

A criticism that has been levelled at Mills is that he lacks the leverage to attract the great international artists. He counters: "The contacts you have are indeed personal, but there's a broader context; you are asking people to come to the Edinburgh festival, which in itself is very sought-after." He says that his predecessors offered him their support, as have major artists such as Claudio Abbado, whose loyalty is to the festival and outlasts the reign of any individual director. "It's not all about me; this is bigger than me by a mile," he says.

He is about to discover that it really is all about him. If his five-year contract goes well, he'll be praised to the skies. If not, he'll be dragged unceremoniously through the muck. One can only wish him luck.